When We Were Young

Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Javert slowly turns around to face the boy.

"She's with you?" he asks.

"Yes, that's what I said."

"But we heard her screaming. We heard her alert the others."

"She was alerting me," Enjolras quickly says. "She knew that if my father found out I was out at this time he'd-"

"Ground you?"

I look up and see that it was the second in command who just spoke. I see Enjolras gulp.

"Papa..." he starts.

Wait. What? Enjolras's father is part of the National Guard? And worst of all, he's second in command to Javert.

"Son, what are you even doing here?" his father hisses.

"I was trying to give this lovely Mademoiselle some flowers." He looks down at the now more than crushed bouquet in his hands. "I think you can see how this is going..."

I look briefly at my father who's just giving me a death stare.

"Boy," his father snaps. "You are not dating the daughter of a scum like Thénardier!"

"And Eponine," my father cuts in. "Stay away from the son of a good for nothing police officer!"

I watch as Enjolras's father quickly turns around and hits mine hard with his baton. His eyes roll over. He's knocked out cold.

"I think it's time we leave this place," Javert interrupts.

I look at Enjolras, who's extending his hand towards me. I bite my bottom lip, hesitating.

"Come on," he mouths out urgently.

I let out a sigh of frustration and grab his hand as he starts to walk me out of there.

"Where do you think you're going, young man?" his father snaps.

"I'm walking this Mademoiselle home, papa. It's not safe to be in the streets alone at this hour."

"Nor is it for you! You're twelve, boy!"

"I'm not alone, papa. I'm... I'm with Marius."

And that's when Marius's head pops up from behind the neighbour's hedge. He flashes a smile.

"Well, hi there, Monsieur Enjolras," he says, his cheeks getting red. "Fancy seeing you out here at this hour."

"Save your pleasantries, Marius. I bet your mother doesn't know you're out here either?"

"No, and I'm hoping it'll stay that way."

Monsieur Enjolras bites his bottom lip, his eyes constantly going from his son to me to my father.

"Fine," he finally lets out. "But we are having a chat tomorrow, young man."

"Papa, come on," Enjolras whines.

"I think it's fair. And I'm only being tolerant because this girl obviously means something to you."

"Yeah, something like that," Enjolras grumbles.

I look up at Enjolras, but he is avoiding my stare. I slowly remove my hand from his but he quickly grabs it back. The softness of the touch, however, is gone.

"Come on," he mutters, dragging me towards Marius.

I look back towards my father and see that he has regained consciousness, and that he's giving me a stare that's sending shivers down my spine. I watch as he is taken away with the rest of the Patron-Minette before turning back towards the boys.

"Thanks," I let out. "I owe you."

"Yeah," Enjolras says. "You owe me some explanations."

"And I want my hat back," Marius cuts in.

Enjolras just rolls his eyes as he starts to storm away towards the inn.

"What?" Marius protests, running after him. "It's my favourite one!"

He then stops a couple feet away and turns back towards me.

"You coming, Eponine? I believe walking you home implies that you're coming with us."

I look at him in shock.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" I ask. "I yelled at you in your face."

Marius just shrugs.

"Life's too short to hold grudges, especially against friends."

"Oh, so we're friends now?"

"I was always your friend. You're the one who decided otherwise."

He motions me to join him and I start to walk forward.

"Listen," I start. "About what was said between Montparnasse and me..."

"I won't judge," Marius cuts in. "That's for adults to do. But if you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"So you're not mad at all?" I ask.

"I hate being mad. Plus, Maman says it gives frown lines and I intend to keep looking this good when I'm older."

I can't help but smile as he turns to walk with me down the street.

"Enjolras, however," he adds, "hasn't quite gotten to my level of forgiveness." He lowers his voice. "He kind of has a temper."